


how it ends and how it all begins

by InterstellarBlue (nagi_schwarz), nagi_schwarz



Series: Bloom [2]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, M/M, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23342551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/InterstellarBlue, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Moon Bin, handler for Fantagio's only wet-work team Orion, is being wooed in the language of flowers.
Relationships: Kim Myungjun | MJ/Moon Bin
Series: Bloom [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670875
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020, K-pop and K-drama AUs





	how it ends and how it all begins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WannaBeYourEunwoo (SherlockianSyndromes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/gifts).



> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Astro, Kim Myungjun +/ Moon Bin, the language of flowers"

Bin wasn’t sure when the tradition started or who started it, but whenever someone came on shift at the flower shop, he was presented with a fresh bloom to pin to his apron for the day. He didn’t pay much attention to the flowers. Everyone wore a different flower, and it wasn’t uncommon for the flowers that they wore to sell extra that day. Half the time, Sanha and Myungjun and sometimes even Minhyuk used the practice to try to stab each other with the boutonniere pins as they pinned the flowers onto each other, so Bin saw no reason to take the tradition seriously. If it helped boost sales, that was a nice bonus, and Bin didn’t mind wearing the flowers. Given that Sanha updated the shop’s Instagram page and Twitter feed with a regularity that rivaled some idol groups, wearing a variety of flowers was a nice touch. 

It was an unspoken rule, that no one tried to stab Eunwoo or Bin with the pins, but Bin was wary whenever one of the others came toward him with a pin all the same. Jinwoo, however, was not immune. Bin thought it was a good thing, because Jinwoo wasn’t a member of Orion, and even though he didn’t know what Orion was, let alone that it existed, he knew he was  _ outside _ of something, and any way to make him feel included was a good thing. That way he wouldn’t be too inclined to pry further, or feel like he ought to quit.

Jinwoo hadn’t been hired at Bloom at random, though. Fantagio had ordered Sanha to do thorough background checks on all the applicants, and Bin had worked with Aries to pick the one civilian employee at the flower shop. Park Jinwoo was a university student who came from a lower middle class family, was the second and youngest son of a widowed woman who suffered from a chronic illness. His shifts were always in the evenings, he had Sundays off, and he was paid handsomely for his time. As long as he didn’t ask questions when the other four shop employees departed suddenly and left only Bin to help him, everything was fine.

Jinwoo didn’t ask questions, but he was vulnerable to being stabbed when the daily boutonniere was presented to him, and he could laugh and tussle with the others, and he was definitely part of the crew at Bloom even if he wasn’t part of everything that went on at the shop. He and Bin were the only ones who didn’t live in the apartment above the shop, and he was never allowed into the basement.

But he could try to hide behind Bin when Myungjun came prowling toward him, a cluster of star-shaped purple blossoms prepared with floral tape and wire in one hand, a pin in the other.

“No, let me do it myself,” Jinwoo protested, laughing.

Myungjun’s eyes were alight with mischief.

The teenage girls who crowded the shop after school to admire the shop’s handsome staff watched and giggled.

“No, I’ll do it, I’ll make you pretty. I promise not to hurt you,” Myungjun crooned, his voice light and sweet.

Jinwoo buried his face against Bin’s shoulder and cringed, still laughing.

Bin just raised his eyebrow at Myungjun, who beamed at him.

Myungjun reached out and pinned the boutonniere to Bin’s apron, right above his heart. “Fine. I’ll give it to Binnie. Because he’s being cooperative.” Then he turned and flounced away dramatically, and the girls giggled some more.

Jinwoo lifted his head. “Am I safe?” 

“For now,” Eunwoo said, breezing past him with a bouquet of roses and baby’s breath, a classic romantic arrangement. “There’s always tomorrow.” He rang up the bouquet - it was for a nervous-looking young salaryman in a cheap suit who was probably looking to impress a date - and then beckoned to Jinwoo.

“I have one for you,” he said. 

Jinwoo approached him easily, clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head so that he and Eunwoo weren’t eye-to-eye when Eunwoo leaned in. Jinwoo’s boutonniere today was a little cluster of tiny daisies.

“There,” Eunwoo said. “Welcome to the afternoon shift.” He smoothed down Jinwoo’s apron, then stepped back and examined him critically.

Jinwoo had a faint blush on his cheeks. He swallowed hard. “Thank you, Eunwoo-ssi.”

Eunwoo was distant and polite with everyone.

Eunwoo nodded and went to head into the back to get started on the next bouquet, but he paused beside Bin, who was standing at the laptop in the corner, checking online orders.

“Cooperative,” he said, eyeing Bin’s boutonniere.

Bin nodded. “That’s why Myungjun gave it to me. Because I was being cooperative and Jinwoo wasn’t.”

Eunwoo said, “Verbena. It means ‘cooperative’. In  _ hanakotoba.” _

Bin looked down at the delicate purple petals, then over at Myungjun, who was flirting shamelessly with one of the customers, telling her that if she didn’t get flowers or chocolate on White Day in a few weeks that she could come to the shop and be surrounded by beautiful flowers and beautiful boys all she wanted.

The girl giggled and bought a single daffodil that Myungjun wrapped in bright pink tissue paper with an expert twist of his hand and presented to her with a magician’s flourish. The girl left, smiling and clutching the flower close.

“Who made the boutonnieres today?” Bin asked Jinwoo, who was trimming stems for a bouquet of multicolored carnations.

“Myungjun-hyung,” he said. “Sanha and Minhyuk didn’t have time today. It was crazy busy this morning. A lot of universities are having their entrance ceremonies.”

Bin looked over at Myungjun again.

Myungjun caught him looking and winked.

Bin shook his head and got back to work. That wink didn’t mean anything.

Myungjun flirted with Sanha, who was still in high school and blushed at the drop of a hat (even though, with the right kind of high-powered rifle, he could kill a man at the drop of a hat, or with the click of a mouse button, because every modern assassin squad needed a top-notch computer expert and hacker).

Myungjun flirted with Minhyuk, whose passions in life were soccer and dance and who could barely be called upon to pay much attention to anything but those two things (and food). Minhyuk had barely finished high school before his professional soccer career went up in flames (literally), and even though he was used to fending off adoration from teenage girls and also die-hard young male soccer fans, he was wrong-footed whenever Myungjun batted his eyelashes and stroked Minhyuk’s hair and offered to bake him something sweet.

Myungjun flirted with Jinwoo, called him Jinie and would sneak up behind him, wrap his arms around Jinwoo’s waist and rest his chin on Jinwoo’s shoulder and ask what was he doing, was he all right, did he need a hand? Myungjun had two but he was  _ so good _ with his hands he might as well have had three. Jinwoo took it in stride, laughed and sometimes flirted back, because they all knew the girls in the shop loved it.

Myungjun even flirted with Eunwoo, but Eunwoo lived up to his ice prince reputation and remained unmoved by Myungjun’s relentless compliments on his beauty, his intelligence, and his talent, Myungjun’s constant offers to help with tasks around the shop, and even Myungjun’s offers of food.

Myungjun, of course, was undeterred by the fact that Eunwoo didn’t even blush when he offered to make him ramyeun in the middle of the night whenever he wanted it.

And Myungjun flirted with Bin.

Whenever Bin came into the shop, Myungjun sang out, “Hello, beautiful!”

During mission briefings, while Bin loaded up the encrypted video messages from Aries, Myungjun would rest his chin in his hands and gaze earnestly at Bin and say, “After I get back, we’ll go on a date, yes? Because I’m the handsomest of us all.”

Eunwoo or Minhyuk would scold Myungjun to pay attention, and Sanha would protest because flirting was gross, and Bin would brush it off and continue the mission briefing. (He let them be silly, though, because their real work was serious. Dead serious.)

Myungjun was many things (a competent florist, a consummate charmer, an experienced former PI, a talented singer, lethal with a garotte), but subtle was not one of them. Surely Myungjun’s comment about Bin being cooperative and the meaning of Bin’s boutonniere were coincidental.

That didn’t stop Bin from going back through the shop’s Instagram page and finding the first appearance of the boutonnieres. The first one he’d ever worn was a red and carnation, petals blood-dark at the center but growing lighter, white at the edges. Eunwoo had said today’s boutonniere had a specific meaning in hanakotoba, which was Japanese flower language. A volume of Victorian Flower Language - in English, which both Eunwoo and Jinwoo could read with admirable fluency - had pride of place on the small bookshelf over the little desk where Bin was working.

Bin used the laptop to look up the hanakotoba meaning of his first boutonnière. 

Fascination, that type of carnation meant. Different colors had different meanings.

Bin’s second boutonniere had been holly, which was out of season, but then the shop grew as much of its own stock as possible, partially to justify the number of employees.

Single and looking, holly meant.

A dahlia meant good taste.

None of those made sense. Bin was single, but he certainly wasn’t looking. Working for Fantagio and managing the organization’s elite team of assassins wasn’t very conducive to dating. Bin checked Myungjun’s boutonnieres from around the same time.

Violets meant honesty.

White chrysanthemums meant truth.

Bin’s chest tightened. Whatever Myungjun was trying to say, Bin wasn’t supposed to hear it.

Was he really telling the truth? Myungjun was charming, but that was hardly the same as sincere.

Over the next few weeks, Bin watched Myungjun, and he wondered.

“You look very adorable this morning!” Myungjun chirped to Sanha, who popped in at the shop briefly before he headed off to school.

He hovered over Minhyuk, who was recovering from an injury on a recent mission, helping him lift heavy things, bringing him food. 

“Don’t damage yourself permanently,” he said. “We need you. And your smokin’ hot body.” This he added with a cheeky grin.

Minhyuk rolled his eyes, but he blushed at the compliment.

“Eunwoo, darling Eunwoo, beautiful Eunwoo, what can I do to convince you to let me have the last piece of rice cake?” Myungjun framed his face with his hands and batted his eyelashes.

“Don’t call me beautiful,” Eunwoo said shortly.

“Eunwoo, brilliant Eunwoo, intelligent Eunwoo, talented Eunwoo, what can I do to convince you to let me have the last piece of rice cake?” Myungjun batted his eyelashes again.

Eunwoo said nothing but pushed the box of rice cakes toward him. 

Myungjun plucked the last piece out and nibbled it delicately. His eyes drifted closed, and he shivered happily. “Delicious. Thank you, Eunwoo. You’re the best. I like you a lot.”

Myungjun was easily the most affectionate out of everyone who worked at Bloom.

He cupped Sanha’s face in his hands and said, “You’re very cute. I adore you. Stay cute, all right?”

Sanha squirmed out of his grip with a protest of  _ Hyung! _ but he did give Myungjun some extra helpings of kimchi at lunch that day.

“Just so you know,” Myungjun said, after he and Minhyuk had hauled in a massive delivery of potting soil and fertilizer, “you’re my favorite Minhyuk in all the world.”

Minhyuk eyed him. “How many other Minhyuks do you know?”

“Well, there’s Lee Minhyuk from BTOB, and Kang Minhyuk from CNBlue, and Kim Minhyuk from NOIR, Noh Minhyuk from Click B -”

Minhyuk shoved him away, but he was smiling all the same.

“Jinie,” Myungjun crooned. “My sweet, precious Jinie, there’s a delivery for a store opening, but I just got a call to prepare some flowers for a funeral, so -”

Jinwoo grabbed the keys to the shop’s delivery van off the peg next to the bookshelf. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry.”

Myungjun blew him a kiss, and the girls in the shop giggled. “Thank you. You’re the best.”

Jinwoo said, “I know,” and then headed into the back to grab the giant bouquet out of the cooler.

Myungjun fluttered his fingers in farewell, then rolled up his sleeves and set to work on a big job, a grim job: funeral flowers.

The day after White Day was Jinwoo’s birthday, and given how harrowing the previous day had been, Bin decided to close the shop early even though Orion had no mission that night. The other five were quick to depart, Jinwoo to the hospital to see his mother, Sanha to a local PC-bang to game with some boys from school, Minhyuk to a street dance competition, Eunwoo to a community theatre production.

“Where are you going?” Bin asked Myungjun, who had removed his apron and was cleaning the back work counter with impressive speed.

“To eat,” Myungjun said. 

“You’re always hungry,” Minhyuk said. “Eat less, work out more.”

Myungjun shrugged airily. “Life is short. Eat dessert first.”

From anyone else, the comment would have been humorous. From a man who was legally dead and regularly put his life on the line, the comment was stark gallows humor.

“Do you want to eat with me?” Myungjun asked Bin. “It would be so much fun. You know you want to.”

“Sorry, but I’m going to the gym to work out,” Bin said.

“You should be more like Bin-hyung,” Sanha said.

“You just say that because you’re afraid of him,” Myungjun said. He beamed at Bin. “I’m not afraid of you. I love you. And I’m proud of my soft baby belly, because it’s nicer to lie on.” He patted his belly proudly.

Minhyuk reached out and patted his belly.

Jinwoo reached out and put a hand on his belly, too, looking for all the world like a proud father-to-be.

Eunwoo patted Myungjun’s shoulder and said, with much patience, “My son.”

The four of them dissolved into laughter, and Bin felt his heart warm. They didn’t laugh nearly often enough, no matter how hard Myungjun tried to bring humor and sunshine into Bloom.

* * *

Bin checked the meanings of his boutonnieres every day. The tiny, white, delicate, star-like gardenias meant secret love. The gentle blue forget-me-nots meant true love. The deep purple kuroyuri meant love. The bright sunflower meant passionate love.

Myungjun called Sanha  _ cutie _ and  _ sweetheart. _ He called Minhyuk  _ handsome _ and  _ hot stuff. _ He called Eunwoo  _ my prince _ and  _ darling. _ He called Jinwoo  _ precious _ and  _ My Jinie. _ He called Bin  _ beautiful _ and  _ sexy. _

Myungjun liked his coworkers, adored them, treasured them. Anyone who did anything nice for him was his favorite for that day, that hour, the next five minutes.

Myungjun only ever said  _ I love you _ to Bin. The way he said it - light, casual - might make it seem like he was joking. 

But Bin tracked the meanings of Myungjun’s boutonnieres too. The fragile little white anemones - almost a match to Bin’s gardenias - meant sincerity. The broad-petaled pink azalea meant patience. The paper-thin, pale petals of the yellow camellia meant longing. The bright sun-burst of the yellow tulip meant one-sided love.

Bin couldn’t get into a relationship with anyone in Fantagio. He’d learned his lesson, being in a friends-with-benefits arrangement when he’d been active on a non-lethal team. Orion was currently Fantagio’s only wet-work squad, a weapon to be deployed sparingly. For that reason, they had to be monitored and cared for scrupulously. Bin’s job was to make sure they were fully briefed for their missions, had all their needs met, and arrange for any comforts that were reasonable and feasible.

Anything beyond a professional relationship was untenable.

Orion was the gun. Bin was the one who pulled the trigger.

And then Orion had a nasty run-in with Day6, a wet-work squad from an organization tentatively known as Helios.

On a good day, Day6 was terrifying. Jae, their one-eyed berserker, felt no physical pain, and on top of that he had lightning reflexes and was a master with blades. Dowoon was telekinetic, could literally hurl cars during a fight. Wonpil was a crack shot with a gun and a telepath, though he could blind people to his presence, sneak up, and end them with his bare hands if he so chose. Younghyun had some kind of healing ability - biokinesis? - so nothing slowed his teammates down. Rumor had it that Day6’s leader, Sungjin, was clairvoyant.

Orion didn’t run into Day6 on a good day. 

Bin woke in the middle of the night when his smartwatch buzzed insistently at his wrist. 

Only two numbers came through when he was asleep, Aries and -

“Eunwoo?”

“We have to take Myungjun to a hospital.”

Bin sat bolt upright. He reached for his dressing gown. “How bad is it?”

Eunwoo said, “Bad.”

“Take him to the Seoul Police Hospital. I’ll make arrangements,” Bin said, unlocking his other phone. 

“Roger that. Minhyuk, turn here.”

The line went dead, but not before Bin heard Sanha sobbing in the background. 

No one in Orion knew that Aries was the Seoul Police Commissioner. Aries had insisted that someone on every team have extensive medical training so they could stay off the books as much as possible. Hospital stays left paper trails, so the Seoul Police Hospital was a last resort. Myungjun was the member of Orion who served as the team medic. As an artist, he had sure, steady hands. The others weren’t incompetent when it came to basic medical care, though. Myungjun must have been on the brink of death.

By the time Bin got to the hospital, Myungjun was already in surgery. The rest of Orion was nowhere to be seen, back at the apartment above the flower shop and seeing to their own wounds. Eunwoo was probably already working on his mission report. 

Seongwu was a young police captain but close to Aries. He and Bin had served on the same non-lethal team, back when they were both first starting out at Fantagio. He met Bin in the hallway outside of the operating room.

“Well?” Bin asked. He really, really wanted a cigarette. Myungjun still had a pack stashed somewhere, didn’t he? To take the edge off after a particularly rough mission (missions involving children always hit them all the hardest). Even though Eunwoo and Minhyuk had nagged him into quitting, he still kept a pack. Every addict did.

“He coded on the table four times, but they expect him to pull through surgery,” Seongwu said. “He’ll be in a medically-induced coma for at least three days to get him through the worst of the pain.”

Bin sucked in a sharp breath. Not even Minhyuk had been this bad off after the fire. But Bin was already calculating shift changes at Bloom, what story to tell Jinwoo and any customers who asked after Myungjun’s welfare. A car crash would be the most plausible explanation. He’d have to scare up a news item that was from around the right time but was vague enough on the details that no one would really know whether it was Myungjun or not.

“I’ll stay with him,” Bin said.

Seongwu nodded. “What do you need from me?” From Aries, he meant.

Bin shook his head. “You’ve done your part. I’ll handle it from here.”

“If you’re sure.” Seongwu started for the door.

“I am. They’re my team.”

Seongwu nodded again, bowed, and was gone.

Orion was Bin’s team. Not the same way it was Eunwoo’s team, Eunwoo being their leader and commander in the field. Orion was Bin’s responsibility. He sat down in one of the waiting room chairs, opened his laptop bag, and set to researching. He had access to the national police database. It didn’t take long to find the details of a car accident - hit-and-run between an expensive care and a pedestrian - that would suit Bin’s needs, should anyone dig deeper into Myungjun’s current physical state. The driver was caught soon after with the power of CCTV, was a powerful politician who’d used money to settle with the victim’s family. The victim was about as bad off as Myungjun was.

Bin emailed a summary of the information to Eunwoo, who replied almost immediately with an acknowledgment that he would disperse the information to the rest of Orion and also Jinwoo, and also he’d attached his after-action report.

Bin took a deep breath and opened it up.

Before Eunwoo’s life had been turned upside down by an unscrupulous chaebol looking to further his power by stepping into politics, he’d been a model student, talented at sports, academics, and the arts. The people in his life had joked that he was like a boy from a comic book, and he had been. His reports were always the perfect balance of detailed and concise, informative but objective.

Day6 had managed to separate Myungjun from his teammates. They hadn’t had him for long before Sanha broke through the telepathic illusion Wonpil was projecting, but between Jae’s blades, Dowoon’s telekinesis, and Younghyun’s ability to harm as well as heal, the damage had been devastating.

Sanha had managed to catch Younghyun with a bullet, and Minhyuk had gone toe-to-toe with Jae, giving Eunwoo a chance to drag Myungjun to safety. The mission was a bust in that the target hadn’t been eliminated, but his operations - a child-smuggling ring - had been slowed down at least. 

Bin emailed Seongwu and told him to scramble some non-lethal teams, to get them to slow things down further till Orion could regroup and try for the kill again.

Bin must have dozed after that. He woke when a nurse called out to him, let him know Myungjun had been moved to a recovery room. The name on the door belonged to someone who’d died long ago but whose vital statistics were close enough to Myungjun’s that no one would notice something was amiss at first glance. 

Myungjun was unconscious, hooked up to various machines tracking his vital signs and dispensing drugs to keep him unconscious. He was the shortest member of Orion but by no means the smallest, could fill an entire room with his mere presence. He looked tiny beneath the harsh fluorescent lighting, with the cheap scratchy cotton blankets tucked around him. Bin carried a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down. He went to reach out, put his hand over Myungjun’s, but then he noticed the IV going into the back of the other man’s small, delicate hand. Myungjun had always had pretty hands. Minhyuk had massive hands and feet for a man his size, but given that he specialized in close-quarters hand-to-hand combat, bladed or otherwise, that was helpful. 

As a child, Myungjun had wanted to be an artist. He had the hands for it. Only now they were stained with blood and potting soil and scarred from thorns.

Was it wrong, to comfort Myungjun? Bin knew comatose patients retained an awareness of the world around them. Half of recovery was psychological. Myungjun had joined Orion because he literally had nothing else to live for. A smart handler would give him a reason to fight, right?

Bin reached out and curled his hand around Myungjun’s wrist, careful of the IV line, and felt his pulse. Myungjun’s skin was cold and clammy.

Bin said, “Please wake up.”

* * *

The atmosphere in the shop was different without Myungjun, and not just because the others were worried about him. It was quieter, and everyone seemed to be moving more slowly, cautiously, like there was a hush and no one wanted to break it even though Myungjun was still in the hospital.

“I don’t understand,” Jinwoo said to Eunwoo while the two of them worked in the back, repotting a bunch of orchids. “I didn’t see anything in the news about the accident. If he was hurt that badly, surely someone would have -”

“The driver was someone with money,” Eunwoo said. “They had the power to keep it quiet.” He didn’t even look at Jinwoo.

Bin, in the doorway, keeping an eye on Sanha and Minhyuk working the counter, listened in.

“Will Myungjun be getting a fair settlement, or will it go to court?” Jinwoo asked.

“It’s not going to court,” Eunwoo said.

“Are we allowed to go visit him?” Jinwoo asked. “Or is his family with him?”

Eunwoo transplanted an orchid to a bigger pot smoothly. “We can’t visit him till he’s awake. Only family can visit him while he’s in the coma.”

Jinwoo nodded. Then he said, “Do we need to help his family, bring them food or anything?”

“They have everything under control,” Eunwoo said.

Jinwoo nodded again, his expression thoughtful. He wasn’t convinced.

Bin was at the hospital when the doctor brought Myungjun out of the coma. It was hideous to watch. One moment Myungjun was sleeping, the next he was screaming in terror.

The doctor hurried to sedate him again.

“Don’t worry,” she said to Bin. “He’s just sleeping, not comatose.”

Bin nodded.

The doctor cast Myungjun a look askance, and then she left.

Myungjun was in the hospital for another week. Eunwoo and Minhyuk helped Bin move Myungjun back into his room in the middle of the night. After that, they all took turns caring for him. Sanha was exempt from the nursing rotation, because he had school, as was Jinwoo, because he wasn’t allowed in the apartment, lest he stumble over some paraphernalia related to Orion’s true vocation. 

Down in the shop, Jinwoo was even more curious.

“What about Myungjun’s family? Can’t they care for him?”

“They can’t afford to take any more time off of work,” Eunwoo said.

“Are you  _ sure _ I can’t help? I’m really good at taking care of people when they’re sick,” Jinwoo said. “And we’re all men. It’s not like he has anything I’ve never seen.”

He’d never seen the scars Myungjun now had on his body. The sight of them made Bin’s stomach turn with guilt whenever he had to give Myungjun a sponge bath.

Jinwoo’s curiosity edged toward dangerous, but Eunwoo continued to head him off.

JInwoo’s curiosity also edged toward flirty, but Eunwoo didn’t notice.

“Why won’t you let me see your room?” Jinwoo asked. “Or are you afraid I’d like it too much?”

“It’s just the place where I sleep,” Eunwoo said.

“Your room should be your happy place. Where you have fun,” Jinwoo said.

Sanha turned bright red, eyes wide.

Eunwoo said again, “It’s just the place where I sleep.”

Minhyuk came downstairs. “Hyung,” he said to Bin. “It’s your turn.”

* * *

Bin would have expected Myungjun to be a loud and needy patient, given how he was always loud and attention-seeking down in the shop. The pale, slight figure who sat in Myungjun’s bed and wore his pajamas and watched movies all day was the ghost of the real Kim Myungjun. He slept fitfully. He spoke rarely. He only asked for food and water around mealtimes. As soon as he was able, he took himself to the bathroom and washed himself, even though it took twice as long and he was exhausted and shaking after.

Bin only knew the barest details of what Myungjun’s life had been like before he joined Orion, and it had been dangerous and lonely.

It was a full month before Myungjun was back on his feet enough to work down in the shop. He took half-shifts at first, hovering here and there, his smile a pale reflection of his usual sunny expression. The girls showered him with flowers and chocolates, cooing over him and offering to cook for him. He took their concern in stride, promised that his teammates were taking very good care of him (he managed to work some flirty innuendo in there, sufficient to make even stoic Minhyuk blush and the girls squeal and giggle).

Bin only started checking the meanings of Myungjun’s boutonnieres again as an afterthought, when Myungjun tussled with Sanha to try to pin one on him. White roses, for innocence, Myungjun said, and the girls sighed dreamily.

“And silence,” Eunwoo added. 

Sanha protested. “Hey!”

Myungjun jabbed him with the pin.

Sanha yelped.

Myungjun pumped his fist in the air. “I win!”

The girls laughed. Sanha pretended to chase Myungjun, and Myungjun ducked behind Bin.

Bin raised his hands in surrender. “Leave me out of this.”

Sanha thrust Myungjun’s boutonniere at Bin. “You put it on him, then.”

It was a delicate little cluster of bluebells. Grateful. 

The next few days, Myungjun wore daffodils and sunflowers for respect, and hibiscus for gentle, white camellia for waiting.

When Myungjun was officially cleared to return to duty, he treated everyone - including Jinwoo - to a nice meal at a fine restaurant. At Myungjun’s insistence, everyone dressed their best, and heads turned when they crossed the restaurant to their reserved table. Bin knew most people were gaping at Eunwoo and Sanha, because Eunwoo was beautiful and Sanha was so tall.

Jinwoo, Bin noticed, couldn’t keep his eyes off of Eunwoo. He was sweet on Eunwoo. No matter. Eunwoo could handle himself, just like Bin. Bin, who was careful not to meet Myungjun’s gaze too often, paid equal attention to everyone else at the table even though Myungjun served him food and drinks first. Jinwoo couldn’t know that Bin had been the one to keep vigil at Myungjun’s bedside in the hospital, so there was no reason for Myungjun to give Bin any special treatment.

The next day, life was back to normal. Myungjun worked a full shift at the flower shop. He flirted with the customers, he tried to stab Sanha and Jinwoo with pins, and he made beautiful bouquets. He wore a white camellia all shift.

That night, he went on his first mission.

The next day, he wore a white camellia.

Every day after that, he wore a white camellia. When it was his turn to make the boutonnieres, he gave the others many varieties, some with romantic or sweet meanings, others ridiculous and humorous, because many stories could be told in the language of flowers.

Bin continued to turn a blind eye to Jinwoo’s increasingly obvious crush on Eunwoo, since Eunwoo hadn’t noticed and wasn’t going to reciprocate Jinwoo’s feelings any time soon. Bin was keeping an eye on Myungjun and his endless stream of white camellias. Something had shifted between Bin and Myungjun, and Bin couldn’t put his finger on it. Even though the old Myungjun was back and better than ever, the life of the party at the shop, something was missing.

The flirting, Bin realized.

Myungjun had stopped flirting with him.

Instead he was gentle, polite, solicitous, helpful without also managing to be a bother at the same time like he was with the others.

Bin realized too late that he was being wooed.

While he was being wooed, apparently Eunwoo had been too, going on dates with Jinwoo, and it all came to a head when Jinwoo came to the apartment to confess to Eunwoo and stumbled upon Orion in the aftermath of a mission.

If Bin had thought that Myungjun crushing on him would be dangerous, Jinwoo and Eunwoo’s newly-kindled romance was even worse. 

They were subtle about it, acted perfectly friendly and professional down in the shop. But the energy crackling between them was electric, contagious, and it was making the others restless. Sanha spent more and more time alone in his room when he wasn’t working in the shop or working on Orion’s missions. Minhyuk spent more and more time out of the shop, dancing or running himself into exhaustion, because words and feelings had never been easy for him but moving his body always made sense. 

Every time Eunwoo and Jinwoo were sweet with each other, Myungjun would catch Bin’s eye and meet his gaze.

_ See? That could be us. _

But then he’d go on his way, and Bin would have to remind himself: he was responsible for Orion, and there were some lines he would never, ever cross.

And then everything went to hell in a handcart, Orion and Day6 clashing in a hideously public firefight. Bin had been worried that Eunwoo would be distracted by romance, had forgotten that what tied Eunwoo to Orion was also the thing that would untether him: his desire for revenge.

Day6 had been hired to protect the chaebol-turned-politician who’d murdered Eunwoo’s parents and left his younger brother comatose. When Eunwoo found out that Aries was that chaebol’s younger brother, he’d felt betrayed - and enraged.

Bin had dispatched the other three to stop Eunwoo from making a suicide run on the man’s corporate headquarters, and now the members of Orion had been branded terrorists and Aries was dead and Fantagio was nothing but ashes and Bin had no choice.

Orion was disbanded. They had to go to ground. They were on their own.

Bin emptied the shop’s accounts at the bank first, then went to the shop to clean out the safe. More cash. Clean identities so all of them could get out of the country if necessary. Once all of them were gone, he’d scrub the place down of their DNA and fingerprints and burn everything that wasn’t nailed down.

Sanha was erasing Orion’s mission database and all traces of his access to the Seoul Metropolitan Police database. Minhyuk was cleaning and sharpening and packing all the weapons away so they were innocuous - Sanha’s sniper rifle in a guitar case, Eunwoo’s sword in a keyboard case, his own baghnakhs in a bowling bag of all things. Eunwoo was nowhere to be seen, was probably at Jinwoo’s apartment saying his goodbyes and convincing him to stay behind because he had his family and friends to think about.

It was Myungjun who was packing clothes for everyone, strangely calm and domestic amidst Sanha’s swearing and flinging of hard drives, Minhyuk’s obsessive-compulsive polishing and scrubbing, Bin counting up stacks of money and identity documents like a gangster boss.

Eunwoo returned without Jinwoo. 

Orion assembled in the basement one last time. Minhyuk distributed the packed weapons (except for Myungjun’s, because his garotte wire was always coiled up in his hideous wristwatch). Myungjun distributed the packed luggage. Sanha gave them all fresh electronics - cell phones, tablets, laptops, right off the production line and untraceable. Eunwoo distributed the money, passports, driver’s licenses, national identity cards, and birth certificates.

Bin collected their keys from them - keys to the shop, the delivery van and scooter, to the apartment.

“Orion is officially disbanded,” he said, meeting their gazes one by one.

Minhyuk left first. He didn’t look back. Sanha scrambled to follow him, but they would part ways at the door.

Eunwoo said, “I’m sorry.”

Bin shook his head. “What’s done is done. Be safe. Live well. Take care of your brother.”

Eunwoo bowed, and then he was gone.

After the door closed behind him, Myungjun said, “Here.”

He held out a boutonniere.

“What is it?” Bin asked. It was a miniature bouquet of pink, purple, blue, and white blossoms.

“Sweet pea,” Myungjun said.

“What does it mean?”

Myungjun smiled. “Goodbye.”

Bin swallowed down the lump that had risen in his throat. He said, “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think that I didn’t - but I could never - you’re Orion, and I’m your handler.”

“Not anymore,” Myungjun said.

“What?”

“Orion is no more,” Myungjun said. “I’m not Orion’s Lyra, and you’re not Draco, my handler. We’re just two men saying goodbye.” He reached out, pinned the boutonniere on Bin’s collar, and turned away.

Bin caught his wrist before he knew what he was doing.

Myungjun looked back at him.

Bin reeled him in and kissed him.

What followed was a haze of kisses and touches, the two of them shedding clothes as they tripped and stumbled into Myungjun’s old bedroom. Myungjun flinched and hissed when he went to remove the boutonniere to save it from being crushed and the pin stabbed him. Bin sucked Myungjun’s fingertip into his mouth and soothed the wound with his tongue, tasted the faintest hint of blood. Myungjun’s breath hitched, and for once he was without words.

When Bin finally had Myungjun bare beneath him and spread out on the sheets, he kissed every scar on Myungjun’s soft skin, whispering apologies for each one.

They fell asleep curled around each other, the two of them against the world.

When Bin woke, he was alone.

A single blossom lay on the pillow beside him.

Red spider lily.

Never to meet again.

Bin stared at it for a long time, too long before he pushed himself up, pulled his clothes on, and set to work.

When he was finished, the shop had never existed, and Orion had never existed, and he would never look at flowers the same way again.

* * *

Six months later, Detective Moon Bin came home to his silent, lonely apartment, made himself instant ramyeun for dinner, watched an episode of a drama with his cat Roa, and went to bed.

He was awakened in the middle of the night by his phone buzzing with an incoming text message, over and over again, the same message repeated. He fumbled for his phone and unlocked it.

_ Fantagio is back. Aries summons you. _

Bin stared at the message in disbelief, his heart racing.

He reached out, switched on the bedside lamp, and pulled on his glasses.

There was a single blossom on his pillow.

A white camellia.

Bin’s phone buzzed again.

_ Orion is waiting. _

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the lyrics to the Thriving Ivory song Flowers for a ghost:
> 
> Who will bring me flowers when it's over  
> And who will give me comfort when it's cold  
> Who will I belong to when the day just won't give in  
> And who will tell me how it ends and how it all begins


End file.
